


daffodils, daisies, snowdrops & roses

by puddingandpie



Series: skam fic week [1]
Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Fluff, Liberal Uses of Flower Meanings, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 02:44:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14844119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puddingandpie/pseuds/puddingandpie
Summary: Even is a Spring. He’s new life. Renewal. Hope. Good things. It follows him everywhere he goes, seeping out of him like he has no idea how to control it.Isak can’t take his eyes off of him. It’s intoxicating, the way he exudes happiness and warmth in a way that should be typical of a Summer, but somehow seems to suit him just right. But just watching him makes Isak’s own body run colder, the icicles that have taken up a permanent home on his hands weaving more intricate designs than usual. It’s the same response as he once had with Jonas, but this time, Even does not have the heat to break the pattern. Isak knows that if he even dares get closer to Even he will ruin him, just as is the natural order of things. Winter kills plants. Winter kills Spring.tldr; in a world where u are assigned a Season at birth which defines your magic, isak is a Winter, even is a Spring. they shouldn't work. somehow they do.





	daffodils, daisies, snowdrops & roses

**Author's Note:**

> hello! skam fic week! i'm writing things! 
> 
> i make no promises that i will write all the days, but i'll definitely try!
> 
> the season idea i have stolen from a fic i read a long time ago, so it's definitely not mine, but the idea has stuck with me for way too long and i had to write it myself at some point! i really hope you all enjoy!
> 
> and as always, to the best people/writers/encouragers, mak and zilv, you two have my heart always <3

_ daffodils - uncertainty, crushes, unrequited love _

 

His hands are cold in his coat, even with the two layers of gloves and the insulated lining of his pockets. Isak has never known what it was like to be warm. 

 

Winters are the least common season, especially in Norway. You would think that having the cold run through him meant that the cold outside had no effect on him, but really it was the opposite. If you were a summer you wanted to live somewhere cold, and if you were a Winter you definitely wanted to live somewhere hot. Isak completely disregarded that, even if it was eventually going to kill him. 

 

Jonas is a Summer, the only Summer that he has met that isn’t repulsed by the idea of him. It was his summerness that drew Isak to him in the first place, both as his best friend and, for a time, the object of his affections. For a long time he was the only heat in Isak’s life, and now even with him and Eskild now, Isak runs colder than ever.

 

Winter’s need Summers to balance them out, or else they will run too cold and destroy everything in their path. At least that’s what the legends say.

 

And Even. Well Even is a Spring. He’s new life. Renewal. Hope. Good things. It follows him everywhere he goes, seeping out of him like he has no idea how to control it. Maybe he doesn’t. Isak watches as he crosses the courtyard, daffodils springing up behind him with every step he takes. A few of the first years giggle as he leans down and picks a small bunch, offering the flowers up to them. 

 

Isak can’t take his eyes off of him. It’s intoxicating, the way he exudes happiness and warmth in a way that should be typical of a Summer, but somehow seems to suit him just right. But just watching him makes Isak’s own body run colder, the icicles that have taken up a permanent home on his hands weaving more intricate designs than usual. It’s the same response as he once had with Jonas, but this time, Even does not have the heat to break the pattern. Isak knows that if he even dares get closer to Even he will ruin him, just as is the natural order of things. Winter kills plants. Winter kills Spring.

 

He forces his gaze away, retreating back into the safety of Nissen where his friends are gathered, waiting for him so they can argue about ditching class for the third time this week. Both Mahdi and Magnus are Autumns, so plans hardly ever go through.

 

Isak doesn’t mind. Winter’s take all the offerings that they are given, and his friends, well they are the best offerings any Winter could receive. 

 

-

 

_ daisy - new love, new beginnings _

 

There is a chores roster on the fridge of kollektivet. Eskild has it in his head that Linn is almost always on dishes duty, because she’s the opposite side of Summer, the monsoons and the floods instead of the heat. Those types of Summers are rare, but Winter still is rarer. However, her Summer offers her control over water, and her ability to use that as efficiently as possible with as little energy as possible is impeccable. As long as the dishes are stacked okay in the rack on the side of the sink she can clean them all without even leaving the couch.

 

Eskild is a Summer too, but he is the hot Summer’s day to Linn’s rain, the Sun in the middle of their little apartment that has brought them all together. Isak wouldn’t be a part of kollektivet if it wasn’t for Eskild, the way that the apartment is always ten degrees hotter than anywhere else in Oslo just so Isak can feel slightly warmer, a little but constant sign that he is welcome here. No one complains about the heat.

 

Eskild isn’t on drying dishes duty though. That job is left to Noora, an Autumn, because she understands how to let a gentle breeze do the drying and doesn’t crack all the china plates under intense heat. 

 

Isak is left with all the odd jobs. The ones that don’t fit anywhere. Whenever Eskild got into one of his moods, where he changed up the roster so that everyone was doing different things, Isak could end up on dishes, where he would usually end up freezing the plates in the dishwater in the sink, or on “repair duty”, which the last time he was on that ended up with forking out an extra 600kr for a new shower pipe and 400kr for the repairman because the original pipe became so frozen solid in his attempts to repair the tiny little leak that it was beyond the point where any one of them could fix it themselves.

 

Isak doesn’t do many chores. He doesn’t do much full stop, because why try and do anything if you know that you are going to break something at the end? Even though Isak knows this, and has long accepted that fact, it doesn’t stop Eskild from trying to get him to do something, anything. “Please, please, please Isak, will you just come and help me? It will only take five seconds!”

 

“Eskild,” Isak whines back, rolling his eyes and lifting his head slightly from the pillow. Right now he is mid-Orphan Black binge, and even though that isn’t the best use of his time, he can’t cause any harm to anything while he is wrapped in his duvet and drowning in three jumpers. “I seriously don’t have the money to be paying for another batch of plates.”

 

“These plates are only IKEA ones though!”

 

“And that’s exactly how broke I am,” Isak retorts, but instead of that excuse getting Eskild off of his back, it ends with Isak’s door pushing open to reveal Eskild himself standing in the now empty space. 

 

“Fine. If you’re not going to help, then please will you go get me a coffee.”

 

“Why do you need a coffee? It’s like one?”

 

“Because I have a “study” date tonight.” Eskild and he have very different definitions of what a study date entails. For Isak it’s actually studying. Eskild’s “study dates” tend to have more of a focus on human anatomy.

 

“Make it yourself. You have that fancy french press thing now. Why can’t you use that?”

 

“Because it sucks and also I don’t know how it works.”

 

Isak tuts, turning his attention back to his Netflix. “Shouldn’t have thrown away the instructions.”

 

Eskild however, is not quite done with him yet. “If you get me a coffee then you are excused from chores from two weeks. 

 

“A month.” Isak retorts quickly, immediately rising to the bait that Eskild offers him.

 

“Fine, two weeks and four days.”

 

“A month.”

 

“Three weeks or no deal.”

 

“Fine. Three weeks. But you’re paying for the coffee.”

 

“Fine,” Eskild says, throwing his hands up exasperatedly. He’s almost in the kitchen when he calls out to Isak as an afterthought, “Don’t bring it back cold!”

 

“No promises.”

 

The closest KB is about three blocks down, but the day is unusually hot, and now that Isak is out he might swing by the skate park first and see if any of his friends are there, just as another way he could waste this Sunday. 

 

They all live kind of far apart, but there is one central skate park to all of them in Gamlebyen, and that’s where Isak hits up first. The only person he recognises there is Elias though, and it takes one glance in his direction for Isak to immediately turn the opposite way and regret even going there in the first place.

 

The usual KB is in the opposite direction from Gamlebyen, so after that it’s just him dawdling home, keeping his head down and trying to avoid looking at anyone else, not wanting to be reminded of his Winterness. There are a few kids behind him, throwing around a bit of Summer fire and pushing around leaves with their Autumn wind. There are never Winters who are this open with their powers. Winter is too much of a risk. 

 

Eventually he passes a KB, and it’s not the usual one but he’s close enough to home that it should be fine, and if he’s not back in a bit then Eskild will be grumpy. 

 

The KB is one of the fancier ones, with its little nooks and crannies filled with little books and touches of quirkiness. He doesn’t really see why it’s necessary to make a KB look like this. People only come in here for one purpose, and once they’re done with that and they have their coffee most people go on their way. Isak keeps his head down as he joins the line, absentmindedly staring at his phone while repeating his order of  _ one soy milk latte and a hot chocolate  _ in his head a few thousand times so he doesn’t fuck it up. 

 

He doesn’t even want to drink the hot chocolate. He’s just getting it so that he has something warm to hold, something more socially acceptable to ask for than just a cup of boiling water. He can give the hot chocolate to Linn when he gets home anyway. She won’t mind heating it back up again. 

 

“Hi Isak.”

 

And oh fuck. When Isak looks up from his phone, suddenly at the front of the line, he’s standing face to face with Even, Even who he did not know worked at this KB or he would have taken the long route back to a different one, maybe the local one that was in the other direction.

 

Even is still blinking at him, waiting for his response, and Isak suddenly becomes aware that he has let the silence go on too long. “Uh… hi Even.”

 

“What can I get for you today?” 

 

“Um… a soy milk latte and uh, a hot chocolate as well, thanks.”

 

“I haven’t seen you in here before.”

 

“Nah, I live up kind of near Elvebakken.” The mention of Elvebakken makes Even tense for some reason, just enough that Isak notices. “I was just at Gamlebyen, actually.”

 

“You skate?” Isak watches as Even flits around behind the counter, effortlessly multitasking between making three different drinks: steaming milk, pressing coffee and blending one of those fancy shaken drinks all at once. 

 

This makes Isak laugh, “No, god no. I have no coordination.” Isak glances behind him, but there’s no one left in the line. It’s just him and two others in fancy work clothes, both of whom are engaged in conversation with each other. “A few friends of mine do though, and I just wanted to see if they were there.”

 

“Could you not have just texted them?”

 

Isak shrugs offhandedly, ignoring his phone as it buzzes in his hand. “Wanted to go for a walk. Needed somewhere to go.”

 

The two of them keep up the casual banter as Even makes the drinks, relaxed and comfortable in a way that Isak hasn’t experienced before. It’s nice, refreshing even. But as the first steaming drink lands on the counter, Isak remembers exactly why he never goes to any other KB but his local one, his stomach immediately twisting into knots. The barista there knows him, and Isak doesn’t even have to ask for the box. But Eskild asked for a hot drink this time, which is different to his usual order. Isak usually gets sent out on the cold drink runs, when Eskild wants iced tea or something fancy, because Isak can keep the drink icy cold all the way home. When Isak gets sent out for hot drinks, he has to get the Winter Box, the insulated piece of cardboard which holds the drinks far enough away from his gloved hands that the ice can’t reach them.

 

“Can I–” he stutters out, the words fading as Even places the drinks on the counter. He doesn’t get a chance to restart his sentence either before Even bends down and fishes a Winter Box out from underneath the counter, unfolding it like he’s done it a million times. 

 

“No problem. Enjoy your drinks Isak!” 

 

“Thanks,” Isak says, but it lands on deaf ears, as Even has already moved onto serving the next customer, his voice the picture perfect image of the  _ customer service voice _ . 

 

He takes the Winter Box with their drinks, suddenly regretful he didn’t go to the one closer. Sure, seeing Even was nice, but the local KB is three blocks away, and this one is a good fifteen minute walk. Fifteen minutes where he has to feel the gaze of too many strangers judging him just based on what he can do, skills which are made painstakingly obvious by the cardboard box in his hand.

 

The fifteen minutes go by too slow, even though he is walking as fast as he can go. Even didn’t judge him though, he just anticipated Isak’s request and did as he asked without saying a word. The thought of it makes Isak feel weird inside. 

 

The key jangles loudly in the lock of kollektivet’s front door, as Isak fluidly pulls it out and shoulders the door open. Eskild is at the top of the stairs, impatiently huffing with his arms folded across his chest.

 

“What took you so long?”

 

Isak just shrugs, handing the Winter Box over to Eskild, whose Summer hands immediately melt the ice that had been coating the handle. He pushes his way past Eskild, and almost makes it into the safety of his room, where he can crawl under his duvet and pretend to be warm again. He is stopped by Eskild, who grabs his wrist and spins him around, thrusting one of the KB cups out at him. 

 

“Isak! There’s a number on this cup!” 

 

Isak smiles suddenly, and warmth swells up in his stomach. The cup has a little daisy drawn on the side.

 

-

 

Even is interesting. And he’s funny. And somehow they haven’t run out of things to talk about yet, even though they are just texting. He sees Even at school sometimes too, but Isak is a second year and Even is a third, so they’re always fleeting glances, a wave and sometimes a quick greeting. He hasn’t gone back to the KB where Even works either, even though he knows every time Even is on shift because of the warning text he gets. 

 

That hasn’t stopped Eskild asking for coffee every three minutes, or finding other creative ways to ask him on a walk.

 

Much to Isak’s surprise as well, it only takes five days of texting Even for him to blatantly ask Isak out. Eskild had bet two days. Jonas had bet two weeks. 

 

even: do you want to do something?

 

right now?

 

even: yeah

 

sure. 

 

are you at work?

 

i can come to you?

 

even: you said you lived near bakka right?

 

oh my god

 

you’re not

 

even: come and find out

 

Even, it turns out, is leaning against the building opposite his house. “How the hell do you know where I live?” Isak asks as he hurries out, Even beaming at him as he crosses the street.

 

“You’ve mentioned it,” Even replies offhandedly, his demeanour suddenly far too casual for what he was saying to be the truth, Isak just quirks a brow. “I asked Noora?”

 

Isak, being Isak, knows exactly when someone is bullshitting him. “And how do you know Noora?” he asks, adopting that absolutely fake blank tone that Isak had to use for a whole summer when he worked in customer service.

 

That’s the final straw for Even. “Okay fine! I asked Sana to ask Noora,” Even spills, caving to Isak’s questioning.

 

“Oh my god,” Isak says, rolling his eyes and rubbing his temples in fond exasperation. “You could have just asked  _ me _ , you know?”

 

“Well sorry I wanted to hang out with you.”

 

“That is  _ not _ what I mean.”

 

Even shrugs. “I’ve heard that desperate is the new thing.”

 

“Desperate would have been flat out asking me,” Isak retorts.

 

“Maybe.” Even shrugs a little, smirking. “But we’re here now.”

 

Even is brave, a lot braver than Isak is, because as they start walking down the street and away from kollektivet he immediately reaches his hand out and tries to hold Isak’s hand. Isak, being incredibly conscious of his standard body temperature, immediately pulls back. He knows that Even knows he is a Winter, but it is a very different thing knowing something and accepting it.

 

“Was that– was that not okay?” Even asks softly, his shoulders slumped in disappointment. 

 

“No, it was,” Isak rushes to reassure him, desperate to restore Even to his former happiness. The words leave his mouth before he realises though, and when Isak realises he has to give Even an explanation, his stomach twists itself into knots. His hands begin to fidget in front of him as he loses pace with Even, falling half a step behind.  “I’m just a Winter. It might be a bit cold for you.”

 

A sort of half smile begins to grace Even’s face, as he gracefully falls back to match Isak’s half pace and reaches back down to tangle their fingers together, intertwine them so that they can not be pulled apart. This time, Isak lets him. “I don’t mind the cold.”

 

-

 

_ snowdrops - hope for new warmth _

 

They end up on a park bench, somewhere on the other side of Oslo, near Sagene. Isak has a faint memory of watching children play in the park below him, and his mother gripping his upper arm tight so he didn’t run off and try to join them. Seasons are always more dangerous when you’re a kid, when you aren’t aware of the effects that your magic can have, and especially when you have such a flimsy grip on your power.

 

They’ve been talking about Seasons for a little now, almost entirely about Even’s and his love for flowers. His Season instinctively knows the meaning of every bloom, even if he doesn’t and so his emotions have a tendency to bleed out everywhere, to be obvious to everyone in the form of the flowers that he leaves in his wake.

 

“Will you show me?” 

 

“Show you?” Isak asks, even though he knows exactly what Even is talking about.

 

“Your magic?” Even reaches his hand up to rub his hand behind his neck. “I’ve never actually seen a Winter before.”

 

Isak’s stomach suddenly sinks. He doesn’t have much control over his powers to begin with, and most of the times he’s tried he’s ended up making someone sick. At best Even will end up with a cold, like Jonas did in third grade. At worst, it will be pneumonia, like what he gave his mother when she tried to force him to stay inside and read his prayers when Jonas was waiting for him outside to play. His mother almost died that time, and that wasn’t even an isolated incident. The amount of burns he had given her over the years just from her touching him was significant, not to mention others who just didn’t know what he was.

 

To him, it just feels like every time he even thinks about using his Season someone gets hurt.

 

His facial expression must have given away his internal conflict, because Even is quick to reach out, bringing Isak and him closer together. “You don’t have to show me if you don’t want to.”

 

“It’s not that I don’t want to. My powers are just pretty boring.”

 

“I doubt that. And besides,” Even sends him a small, goofy grin. “Nothing about you is boring, that’s for sure.”

 

“Most people wouldn’t be interested in seeing a Winter’s powers. I know we have a bit of a reputation.”

 

“Is that what this is about? You think I’m going to judge you?”

 

It’s clear, at least to Isak, that Even isn’t going to give up anytime soon. He takes a deep, resigned breath. “My Season is the season of death, Even.” 

 

Even shoots him an exasperated look, which isn’t the reaction that Isak was expecting at all. “When I think of winter, I think of my favorite sweater. I think of curling up by the fireplace with a cup of hot cocoa, watching Christmas films and wearing fuzzy pajamas. Death doesn’t come to mind at all.”

 

“You think that now, but… I don’t want it to scare you away.”

 

“Why would it scare me away?”

 

“Winter is dangerous.” Isak pauses. “I’m dangerous.”

 

“You can’t really think that.”

 

Isak shrugs again, trying not to betray the depth of how much the effects of his Season and his magic has affected him. Even, however, is easily the most perceptive person Isak knows, something he has proven time and time again just in this conversation. “Do you know what? Forget I brought it up, okay?” He immediately reassures, rubbing his hand over Isak’s shoulder. “We can go get a hot drink and talk about something else.”

 

Isak takes a deep breath, averting his eyes from Even’s gaze. “If you really want to see I can show you.”

 

“Only if you want to.”

 

He doesn’t reply, and the hand that was fiddling with the loose finger of his glove suddenly pulls it off without him even thinking about the action. He shakes the glove out, conscious of the sheer amount of snowflakes which come tumbling out. 

 

Isak lifts his hand so that his palm is facing up. His fingers are almost blue, and even though they are usually like this he can tell that Even wasn’t expecting it. 

 

“Your hands,” Even murmurs, reaching his hand out to touch but aborting the action halfway through. “Are they cold?”

 

“I’m used to it.”

 

Even smiles wryly. “You shouldn’t have to be.”

 

It’s those words that makes the first snowflake fall. There’s no clouds in the sky, it’s a nice day outside, but still perfectly intricate icy snowflakes, small and delicate, begin to fall. On the top of Isak’s palm the snowflakes are there too, bigger this time and growing steadily. They’re moving, weaving in and out around each other like it’s some sort of game, leaving trails of blue light behind them. 

 

Even is just staring at his palm, mouth open and eyes alight. He isn’t shivering. “It’s beautiful.”

 

Isak has no idea how to reply to that. He has never had someone compliment him on his Winter magic before. 

 

“You’re beautiful.”

 

Isak hasn’t been kissed like this before. Like he is something to be revered, a precious object instead of something dangerous and to be controlled. It makes the tingly feeling return, stretching all the way from the tips of his toes to the top of his head.

 

As they pull apart, there is a single, perfect snowdrop resting between them. Even smiles, blushes like there is some hidden meaning written in each of the delicate petals. He reaches down to pick it up, tucking it behind Isak’s ear. 

 

Isak smiles back.

 

-

 

_ red rose - intense, romantic love _

 

It’s been three weeks since they started talking, and right now Even is lying in his bed. He’s been snuck in, as this is his first time here, so that Eskild doesn’t come in and start asking questions that Isak doesn’t really want to answer. Like the question that is hanging over his head and his heart, whether after three weeks of loosely seeing each other Isak can call them boyfriends or not. Whether he should even do this, considering the implications of their Seasons. 

 

Isak has been a lot more open with his Winter gift in the past week after the park bench incident, but just because he is open doesn’t explicitly mean that Even is cool with all of the things that come with his season. He did make Even’s coffee into a slush almost-frappuccino by accident last time they hung out, but instead of being mad or anything Even was delighted, beginning to rave instead about the implications of free slushies in the summertime. He’s counting that as a win.

 

“Can’t you just tell him not to ask questions?”

 

“He won’t stop. Not about this.”

 

“Not even if you’re like uncomfortable?”

 

Isak shrugs awkwardly. “I’m not really uncomfortable. Like to the point where he’ll stop. He’s really good with knowing where the lines are.”

 

“That’s good. I’m glad you’re living with someone like that.”

 

“Yeah. They’re all really good here.” Isak pauses. “How did you know Noora lived here?”

 

“Sana.” Even pauses, rubbing his hands up and down his leg. He’s sitting painfully rigidly on the end of Isak’s bed, as Isak leans against his desk on the other side of the room. This is a new thing, and neither of them are sure of the etiquette they are supposed to be following, whether they are allowed in each others space or not. “We used to be friends.”

 

There’s a story there too, but Isak doesn’t press it. He has always thought of others in his room as an intrusion, Jonas and Eskild to a lesser extent. Even doesn’t feel like an intrusion at all. He doesn’t want to intrude in Even’s head quite yet either, so he just moves closer now, wraps his arms around the back of Even’s neck and stands between his legs. 

 

“Okay.”

 

“Okay?”

 

Isak presses a brief kiss to the corner of Even’s mouth. “It’s fine. I’m glad you’re here.”

 

“I’m glad I’m here too.”

 

There are footsteps outside the hall, moving out from down past Isak’s room and into the kitchen. The two rooms past Isak’s are the bathroom and Eskild’s, which means that the most likely source of the footsteps are Eskild’s, because the only other person who goes into Eskild’s room is Noora, and that’s only when she’s doing the laundry that Eskild always forgets to do.

 

Something in Isak’s facial expression gives that fact away. “What happens if Eskild does come in then?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Well what do we tell him?”

 

Isak smiles a little, catching on to Even’s train of thought. He shuts his eyes, resting his forehead gently against Even’s. “Even with?” he murmurs, hoping that Even will understand.

 

“Even with,” Even replies firmly. 

 

The tingly feeling that he seems to experience so much around Even immediately returns, which makes Isak’s smile grow instantly, spreading all over his face and lighting up his eyes. “Then I guess we should tell him that we’re boyfriends.”   
  


Even nods like they were just making a business deal instead of starting a proper relationship. “I think that’s a good idea.”

 

“Me too.”

 

Isak leans in first this time, his whole body alight now. And then the first drop of rain hits his face. It’s startlingly cold, even for him, and it shocks both him and Even enough that they don’t even get to kiss, both instead looking up at the ceiling for the source of the rain. 

 

“It’s raining?” Even says, tilting his head back to feel the rain that was now falling sparingly from the ceiling. 

 

“Are you doing this?” Isak asks, a weird feeling settling in his stomach. The rain slowly begins to get heavier.

 

“No. I think you are.” Even is looking at Isak like he is a miracle, but this can’t be him, because no Winter has ever made rain before. No Spring has either.

 

“But––” Isak stutters out. The rain is cold, at a temperature which is bordering on becoming ice. No Summer could make rain this cold. “I can’t be doing this.”

 

“Yes you can. Ice melts to make water.” Even smiles one of his blinding smiles that makes Isak go weak at the knees. He reaches his hand up to cup Isak’s cheek, brings them gently closer together. “You’re melting.”

 

Even kisses him then, softly but firmly. The rain is still pelting down around him, and Isak knows that his bed will be soaked and his mattress probably ruined. But he’s doing this. And he can’t even bring himself to stop.

 

“I didn’t know Winter’s could do this.”

 

“Neither did I.” Even shrugs. “Maybe it’s my influence.”

 

“You?”

 

“Spring. The season of new life. Rebirth.” Even’s face splits open into a grin. “Melting the snow that Winter left behind.”

 

And maybe it is him. But maybe it’s Isak too. 

 

“You’re cold,” Isak says finally, his hands tingling where they now rest on Even’s cheeks. He can’t keep the smile off his face anymore, so he gives up the fight, letting his happiness over take him.

 

“No I’m not,” Even says, reaching his hand up to rest over where Isak’s is on his cheek and bringing his other arm to rest behind. “You’re just warm.”

 

And as Even’s lips touch his again, Isak feels reborn. The rain falls around them, pitter pattering gently onto their shoulders as  a single red rose begins to grow in the flower pot by the window.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> feedback is always appreciated and all mistakes are my own :)


End file.
